


Coronation

by hamletmustdie



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Amputation, Blood, Irken relationships are... complicated, M/M, RaPr, Smut, tagged for violence just in case but it's relatively tame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 21:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16819015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamletmustdie/pseuds/hamletmustdie
Summary: Red had expected this event to be public. Perhaps broadcasted on huge monitors, for Irken’s loved blood and carnage. Executions were held publicly, broadcasted for anyone to see, as were trials, and canon sweeps. Live games were held on particularly violent planets so they might see prisoners deck it out with unspeakable alien horrors only to be torn to bits on live television. And the Irken’s ate it up.So when Rarl Kove pushed gently open the door to an immaculate but small room with dim, purple tinted lighting, Red was a little surprised. (A/N: a fic concerning an interesting detail in the wiki that the Tallest's cut off their thumbs to "prove they can rule without them".)





	Coronation

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently become fascinated with a little detail in the IZ wiki which claims that when an Irken becomes Tallest, they cut off their thumbs to prove they can "rule without them". Although the movie seems to be ret-conning this, I still think it's so unique!! So here's an nsfw fic about it lol

Red had expected this event to be public. Perhaps broadcasted on huge monitors, for Irken’s _loved_ blood and carnage. Executions were held publicly, broadcasted for anyone to see, as were trials, and canon sweeps. Live games were held on particularly violent planets so they might see prisoners deck it out with unspeakable alien horrors only to be torn to bits on live television. And the Irken’s ate it up.

So when Rarl Kove pushed gently open the door to an immaculate but small room with dim, purple tinted lighting, Red was a little surprised. Beside him, Purple scoffed.

“What is _this_?” He asked, oblivious. One of the greatest scientists in their ranks (and greatest shots, too) and Purple was somehow quite slow and dull-witted. Red rolled his eyes. 

“This, _my Tallest,_ is the final coronation room,” Rarl Kove said in his soft, elderly voice. He was bowing, antennae pressed forward, indicating they enter the room. “... Well, Coronation Part II room… Coronation… Room Part- Ah, nonetheless, the final part of your almighty coronation as Elite _Tallest._ ”

Red went forward, ignoring Purple’s suspicious glare into the room. The room was covered in fine lush curtains which hung upon every wall. Red saw fine gems and rocks from other planets that were often declared impossible to find due to Irken mining, made tiny and pressed into the curtains hems. At the forefront of the room, a black, large Tallest symbol loomed. The floor was made of black tile. At the middle of the room, a tall column was raised up with a flat surface, like a strange, thin table. On it were two things; a polished wooden holder on which one might place their hand on, as well as a knife.

Rarl Kove remained in the doorway.

“My Tallest understand what is to take place here, of course?” He asked gently as Purple also stepped in, gazing around the room. The light that came down from some sort of strange skylight above the table made his wide, lavender eyes glitter.

“Of course,” Red said simply, reaching for the knife. It was long, it’s blade edge serrated. It had clearly been very recently touched up for this very act. It’s hilt was quite simple, not overly done; black with the Irken symbol in some translucent, pink rock.

Purple joined Red at the table, eyeing the knife. It seemed he’d finally recalled what this final act was. “So, we have to do this- _ourselves?_ ”

“Of course.” Rarl Kove bowed his head again.

This was a very personal event, it seemed, not even to be exploited through Irken bloodlust. Red regarded his reflection in the knife. A moment of silence lingered, Purple hovering beside him.

“We have no more need of you,” Red said dismissively. Rarl Kove bowed respectfully one final time, before he softly closed the door. Red listened to the faint shuffle soft footsteps retreating, the clinking of armor as two soldiers returned to their posts at the door. Red tested the blade’s edge with one thumb. It bit through his glove and into his skin easily, drawing bright, candy colored blood which soaked into the fabric.

As an Invader, Red had seen a lot of violence, and he’d been in danger countless of times. Once, while infiltrating an important sector of an enemies government facilities, he’d been cornered and captured. He hadn’t thought it was all over; far from it. But he had had to linger there for a period of time as a hostage, withholding Irken information and refusing to offer up his true identity while his S.I.R unit devised an escape for him. He hadn’t been treated gently, and his PAK had been severely damaged to the point of near failure. During that time, he’d lost a few fingers. Actually, he’d lost all of them, but his PAK had slowly regenerated the limbs over a period of days at a time.

Red gingerly plucked both of his gloves from either hands, placing them on top of each other on the table. He placed his left hand, next, onto the wooden stand and raised the knife… 

Beside him, Purple had begun circling the room again, taking in his surroundings when he turned, cried out, “Wait! What on Irk are you doing!”

“I would like to get this over with,” said Red, pausing. 

“So you’re just gonna- cut it off without me! Geez, you didn’t even warn me! I thought someone _else_ would be doing this for us!” Purple threw his arms into the air, irate, marching in a circle around Red. “This is just primitive.” He snatched the knife from Red’s hand, who glared, annoyed. “And this blade is _serrated._ ”

“So?” 

“So- so we have to, you know,” Purple made a sawing motion with the knife before he tossed it carelessly back onto the table. 

“... We have to _what_?” Red could sense the queasiness building up in the other. Purple blinked, looking aside, bringing both claws up to his middle in that nervous habit of his. During his own Invading, Red had kept a mild eye on him. He’d called him, semi-frequently, and each time he had a different, well-thought-out excuse. How was Purple’s invasion coming along? Had he received the snacks Red had sent him from his own, primitive and stupid planet? Had he made any progress in preparing the population for an invasion? The unsaid question was always, _are you still alive?_ And of course, this unsaid question was alway answered when Purple either answered Red’s transmissions or sent one out himself. Invader’s did the most dangerous of all jobs, and Red was always keeping track of who of his own Invader Training classes had survived or not; of the thirty Invaders who had been sent out that time, four had been unsuccessful and each one had been replaced by another. Now, Red raised a brow at Purple, smiling deviously, loving the anxiety radiating from him, “Don’t tell me you’re _afraid_ to cut off your own thumb?”

Purple tensed visibly. “ _No!_ ” He whined. “Of course not! I’m not afraid of, of a little pain, not at all, it’s just- it’s just this room is stuffy. It’s small. I don’t like it.”

“Well, perhaps when we’re done here, we can commission it to be remade.”

“Hm.” He crossed his arms. “And I don’t like the- the color scheme. It’s too…. Too red.”

“Oh, really? I thought it too _purple._ ” Red said smoothly, narrowing his eyes. Purple kept his gaze averted in a haughty pout.

Another beat of awkward silence as Purple drummed six fingers against his crossed arms. The new, Tallest uniform was quite nice on him. Long, draping skirt and armor over the chest, a new, finer made PAK with very long and sharp PAK legs inside. No armor for the arms though; Purple still wore his gloves, which would be removed for the final time just for this. The little technological armor bits that would replace the gloves had similar fabric that would cover their remaining two fingers. Their corsets, shockingly tight had been fitted just for them, and Red had regarded it’s fine steel and purple polish over the other’s body.

Red had always found something akin to attractiveness when it came to Purple, yet Irken instincts overrode this attraction with deviancy and anger. He picked on Purple often. Liked to annoy and frustrate him, out-do him and piss him off. Of course, he could be gentle, too...

Red drew forward, taking one of Purple’s arms, running fingers down the skin to where a glove began, tugging it gently away. Purple was looking aside, lips jutted into a pout, but he didn’t shove the other away. When the glove fell to the tiled floor, Red allowed his fingers to intertwine with Purple’s, who closed his thin fingers around the other’s tightly.

“I can do it for you, you know,” Red whispered, soft and strangely genuine.

That made Purple’s antenna perk up. He turned, scrutinized Red through narrowed eyes. “Hah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? I can do it myself, thank you.” He yanked his hands away, turning back to the table to lift up the knife. Red watched him, irritated and almost rejected.

All throughout their years in Invader training, it’d been him keeping an eye out for the other. Subtle and silent, like some sort of serpent beast, he’d ensured no one had picked on Purple, for Irken’s were terribly fond of bullying and cruelty, even towards one another. It was well known that it was only Red that Purple tolerated in terms of teasing, and even then _tolerated_ might’ve been the wrong word to use. They were frequently together and yet still frequently at each other’s throats. They’d sabotage each other, sneer and tease the other, but never did they trail from the others side. It was like some sort of twisted sibling rivalry... Or something else entirely.

Of course, Purple provided something for Red, too, but he had a hard time explaining exactly what that was.

“Um,” Purple faltered, the knife just over his right thumb.

“Go ahead, Pur. You said you could do it yourself,” Red cooed.

“I _can!_ And quit _calling me that!”_ He hissed, but still the knife didn’t move. A second passed, then another, and Red was beginning to smile wider and wider, thin and sticky and cruel before Purple scoffed. “I can’t _concentrate_ with you _staring_ at me like that!”

“Oh, of course,” Red took a few steps back, turned to gaze about the room. Purple was chewing on his tongue, the knife still hovering, hovering…

“Must we do this today?” He asked finally.

“Yes,”

“Why not- ...why not another day, perhaps when we have less to do. Today’s been _packed_ and we still have to go to that stupid celebration next. I’m tired.”

“There will be snacks at the celebration, so why don’t we get this _over with_ so we can eat.”

“But- but, does it really have to be today, not some other-”

“What _other day_ ?” Red asked with false softness, snatching the knife away again. “What _other day_ will there be, _Pur_? _Hmm?_ I did not bring us here for you to-”

“Oh, oh, _excuse me,_ did you say, _‘I’_ as if it was _your_ meager efforts that brought us here? Is that what I heard? Because if so, I do recall it being _me,”_ he jammed his thumb against his chest, his voice lowered to a hissing whisper, “who orchestrated the last Tallest’s assas-”

“Will you shut up _!”_ Red pointed the ceremonial knife at Purple. He didn’t even flinch.

“ _Why_? Afraid someone might overhear we-”

“ _Stop it-_ ”

“ _Strangled the last Tallest together-”_

Red jammed the knife into the table and it sunk three inches in, cracking the marble. “ _I swear to Irk if you continue-_ ”

“There is no monitoring equipment here,” Purple announced dryly, “I checked, you _idiot._ ”

Red twitched, furious. “... Whatever. This is all because _you_ won’t go through with something as simple as amputation. Now, shall we do this already, or-”

At that, Purple’s anger faded faintly as he paled again. He eyed the knife, then Red, and tried to appear menacing. “Perhaps I want to keep all of my parts. Is this so wrong?”

“Generally, _no,_ ” Red gripped the hilt of the knife, yanked it from the table, “Although given the current circumstances, _yes, it is._ Because with those little thumbs still intact, we cannot become Tallest. And I do not intend to be Tallest on my own if it means you will always be lingering somewhere, waiting to kill me. We have discussed this.” Purple still eyed him with frantic wariness. “Here, I will go first, just to prove to you that this is not so bad. And you will help me.” Red went to the table despite the little sound Purple made, placed his hand on the table.

“ _Help you..!?_ ” Purple hissed, incredulous.

“Yes. Now come here.” Hesitantly, Purple came forward a few steps, while Red placed his left hand over the wooden piece. “Now, hold me down,”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Red hissed, and Purple cringed back, glaring, before he reached and slowly placed one hand over Red’s where it was against the table. He applied pressure, but not too much. “I could easily squirm out of that grasp. If I were an enemy, _Pur,_ I’d have stabbed you by now,”

“Well, you haven’t, so shut up.” Despite the malice in his voice, Purple swallowed. He applied more pressure, gripping Red’s wrist tightly between long fingers.

“Are you going to take the knife?” Red asked impatiently.

“Why do you want _me_ to do this?!”

“Did you think I’d have you hold my hand down while _I_ did it? No, you idiot, it’s supposed to be you!”

“But- the Tallest’s before us all did it themselves,”

“There are two of us here,” He said lowly, and Purple looked away to hide the faint lavender tinged blush that had begun to fill his cheeks. Red took up the knife, put it into one of Purple’s limp hands. “I’m sure you will be as gentle as you can be, right?” Purple scoffed, stiff against him.

No, he was not afraid of a little _amputation._ He’d been through worse. Red watched Purple raise the knife, place it just over where the joint from hand to thumb began. It would not feel good, and already their PAKs had been altered to first prevent regrowing, and secondly to ensure they both felt this. There would be no flooding of anesthetics or pain medication, no comfort from their PAKs. 

“Are you going to do i-” He began to sneer but then the knife was sliding in, very sharp and rough, tearing skin, then tissue and muscle. The blood that came was bright and sickly sweet looking, and Red felt his entire self twitch from the unexpected burst of pain that began at his hand, rushed all the way into his antennae. He almost jerked away but Purple had begun gripping him tighter, as if instinctively, keeping his hand and body pinned against the table.

The pain was to be expected; terrible. Just as it had been when he’d been locked away in enemy territory, except then he had been very prepared, gritting his teeth and hurling insults. Now, he’d somehow been taken by surprise, and he withheld an almost squeak of pain.

And then the knife had slid through, and his thumb fell limply away into a growing pool of messy red blood.

Purple stumbled away very quickly, dropping the knife onto the table with an overly loud clatter. Red gripped his hand, blood spilling onto the front of his own skirt. It seemed to blend into the red fabric instantly. Perhaps that was one of its purposes.

“Did it hurt?” Purple asked.

Red’s hand felt hot in his grasp, and the blood wouldn’t stop coming. There came from the injury an awful pulsating feeling which ran down his arm and throughout his whole self. His antennae pressed against his skull in painful concentration. He staunched the bleeding with one of his own gloves from where he’d placed them on the table, squeezing the mauled limb even though it hurt. Bad.

“Of course it fucking hurts,” he hissed finally. Purple’s eyes were wide and frightened. Red let out a slow, uneven breath, then another. “But nonetheless. Do the next one.”

“I-I don’t know, Red, h-how about-”

“Or perhaps it’s your turn, now, hmm?” The pain was churning his emotions into aggression as his PAK attempted to do _something_ about the pain, and he felt a rush of faint anger. He reached with his free hand, gripped Purple’s arm and yanked him towards the table. Purple yelped instantly, trying to pry himself away.

“Stop it! This isn’t fair, I’m not ready yet!” Finally, he did whisk himself away, stumbling backwards away from Red, who let him go. He was gripping both hands to his chest as though he’d been hurt. “What’s wrong with you! I said I wasn’t ready yet!” Red merely pointed to the table with an un-ruined hand. Purple eyed him fearfully, going forward very slowly.

“Y-you have to do it quick. Really quick. Okay?”

“Mhm.”

Purple drew forward slowly, waiting for Red to grab him once more.

“If you fuck this up, I will be livid, know this,” Purple warned.

“Mhm,” Red hummed again. Purple shakily placed his hand on the wooden piece. He snatched his hand away again almost right away before replacing it.

“How did you manage to invade a planet?” Red asked testily. Sweat was beading at his brow.

“Shut up. This is different. I’m expecting this…”

“You weren’t expecting to get hurt as you conquered a planet?”

“I was, just- just shut up! This is different!”

“Whatever.” Red reached for the knife with his ruined claw, using his good one to grip Purple’s wrist tightly. He leaned against the other from behind, as though he were about to guide his hands along something, placing his chin on Purple’s shoulder. Pur was trembling, still chewing on his tongue. Red forced his ruined claw to grip the knife, and it protested in pain. He ignored it, gritting his teeth. It would be difficult doing the other one….

Against, Purple suddenly jolted.

“Wait! I-”

Two PAK legs burst from behind Red as he pined Purple down. Purple reacted instantly, clawing for his other hand, snarling. But already the knife was coming down fast, and it slid through soft, jade skin so suddenly Red almost jolted when he felt the blade’s edge against the table beneath with _THUNK_ sound.

It seemed to echo into the small room, and it was followed by a brief silence. Red stared at the thin, sharp Irken thumb which lay still in a growing pool of bright, nearly neon purple blood. It twitched, once, twice, while the blood spread and spread, until suddenly Purple shrieked and jerked away from him, stumbling three times until he fell, backing up until his PAK struck the wall.

He gripped his mauled hand against his chest, heaving, and glared fiery daggers at Red, crying out, “ _How could you do_ that?!”

Red shrugged, looking away from Purple to the finger on the table.

“You s-stupid- _fuck!_ I didn’t say I was ready! Wh-what’s wrong with you?!”

“You would have kept asking to wait. I did it fast, just like you asked,”

“You _asshole!_ Y-you- you’re _sick!_ ” Little bright tears from pain had appeared in Purple’s dark eyes as he clutched his hand tight against himself. Red tilted his head in mock pity, setting the knife aside as he drew forward. On the table, a thick, sticky mixture of their blood contrasted sharply against each other. Purple pressed himself against the wall in furious terror as Red bent, got onto his knees, and reached out. It was with his bloodied, ruined hand that he touched Purple’s face, smearing blood beneath his left eye. “Stop it,” Purple hissed.

“Was it _that_ bad…?” Red asked softly. “Did it really hurt so terribly?”

“Fuck off,” Purple muttered, withholding a whimper. Despite the throbbing in his hand, Red held Pur’s face. The other didn’t pull back but he didn’t relax, either; he was tense, shivering, and glared up at him with narrowed, horrible eyes.

Red had been quite young when he’d met Purple for the first time on a supposedly basic mission. Admittedly, he’d _hated_ the other Irken on sight, hated his laziness, his haughtiness, his seemingly dull-wittedness, and his knack for constantly eating. Red couldn’t _stand_ him. But when the mission had gone awry and Purple had barely saved Red’s life, he’d been secretly smitten; perhaps because Purple was strangely quick when it came to weaponry and violence; perhaps for his trigger-happy tendencies; maybe he was weirdly into the fact that Purple’s height matched his own, and he was just as cruel and bitter as Red was when you pushed the right buttons.

Blood smeared, bright along Pur’s cheeks. “We didn’t come this far for you to be so angry with me,”

“You cut off my _thumb,_ ” Purple hissed.

“It would’ve been cut off regardless,” Red whispered. The pain was pulsating now, a terrible feeling which Red might be loathe to admit he almost enjoyed. Irken PAKs were so keen on keeping such intense feelings at bay. With such little interaction with harsh pain, it had a sort of addictive like quality to it. Or maybe that was just him. The rush made his blood pulse. He leaned forward.

Purple's lips met his with resistance at first, hardly moving and not reciprocating. His hand was curled against his chest and his own gripped Red’s forearm in a feeble attempt to shove him aside. When Purple gasped as Red’s teeth fell over his bottom lip, Red took the chance to slip his tongue into his mouth. Purple reacted to the invasion with brief anger, his grip on Red’s arm tightening before his tongue slipped further, deeper in, and Purple’s breath hitched.

He felt the other begin to melt, albeit a bit bitterly, his grip loosening and tightening only to loosen again. His tongue wrapped possessively against Red’s. His body began to arch up. Red reached behind him, gripped the slim waist, kneading against the sharp bones beneath the corset. His hand trailed up, up until it reached the bottom of his PAK. A small sound from Purple made him growl and he reached up, yanked painfully at an antenna from the other who yelped, reached, and yanked back. The sting of pain and sensitivity coursed quickly through him and Red bit down again on Purple’s mouth.

Purple radiated heat. Neon blood smeared against Red’s new clothes, standing brightly out against the fabric, but for the moment he didn’t mind.

Together, they had been top Invaders in the eyes of Tallest Dixx, the Irken who had replaced Spork following his early demise. They’d seemed eager to please their tallest, two fine (and tall!) young Irken’s. They had been called to his quarters to deliver news following their work in the destruction of rebellious aliens from a nearby planet. Tallest Dixx had had many servants, then, and many had been slaves; among them had been a slave to the very race which had been rebelling. So when Red and Purple had pinned him using needley PAK legs, Red wringing his thin neck with tightened claws, Purple had kept his slave nearby as to not warn anyone. And when someone _did_ find Dixx, the blame had fallen onto that very slave. Just as they’d wanted it. _He’d been disgusted by our works against his people. Of course he’d lashed out._ Maybe they should’ve been punished for their inability to save their tallest, although this argument became awkward when they were announced as the two next Tallest’s in line according to their height. And thus…

Purple’s grasp on his antenna had softened to something more tender, and Red’s biting had become more desperate and eager to please than simply rough and dominating.

They had done this plenty of times as young Invader’s together, hiding in docked ships where no one would find them. Such perverse activities would likely be met with harsh punishment by any higher ups, if only because they’d done it in secret. Things like this were not unheard of among Irken’s, but they were very rare and not looked well upon. Irkens were meant for solitude and independence. Red could testify to the unreliability of a relationship such as this in only that he had fretted often for Purple when he’d been held hostage as an invader so long ago. He had had so much on his own plate, but his mind had wandered to the other every day. He hadn’t needed that extra pain… Yet he was too often drawn to the other. Red hovered over Purple at every waking moment. And Purple pretended either not to notice or to be above it.

“We need to finish up here,” Red whispered against Purple’s lips, “We’ve already taken too long,”

“A moment longer,” Purple whined. One of his claws had gone to the hem of Red’s skirt, tugging at it. Red winced at the growing heat he felt beneath there. Impatiently, he reached away to help the other find the zipper just so Purple to slide a hand there where he found black stockings, and beneath that, hot flesh. “Look at you… You’re _sick._ You like this too much,” His tone was biting but he was grinning as his fingers found Red’s slit, hot and wet. Red stiffened from the shock of pleasure as Purple’s fingers slid gently into it, teasing. The rush of emotions in his head were swimming. He shuddered against him as Purple’s fingers found his member, long and slick within him. Purple coaxed it carefully, halfway out, stroking the soft flesh as gently as he could. “Want me to get you off?” Purple cooed.

His fingers were warm against Red. He felt himself wrap around Purple’s claws, desperate and needy… And that look in Purple’s eyes, excited and overbearing stirred something animal within him. Growling, Red shoved Purple forward where he struck the wall a second time. He yelped, surprised, as Red unzipped Purple’s own skirt, tugging it down halfway as he straddled him.

  
“And you call me _sick,”_ Red muttered after he yanked down Purple’s stockings. His own slit was puffy and slick, wanting attention. “I thought you didn’t like this sort of thing,”

“I _don’t_ ,” Purple lied, but as Red reached and slid two fingers into him, he gasped, clapped a good hand over his mouth. “Someone will hear-” he mumbled softly.

“So what?” Red felt the walls of the other, coaxing his member quickly out of him. Thankfully, Purple was aroused enough to slide easily out, and Red’s own wrapped possessively around his. Purple hissed with pleasure, his hand pressed against his mouth. Red yanked his hand away as he leaned forward, mashed their mouths together. Teeth scraped against teeth and Purple whimpered beneath him as he ground his hips against the other.

“You’re t-too into th-this,” Purple muttered breathlessly again when he pulled away. Red suddenly wished he’d kept the knife; Purple was so distracted, he could get them both finished as he fucked him. He couldn’t imagine the mess of feelings that might bring; striking pain mixed with rushed pleasure. Purple would cry out, and Red would love it as he shuddered beneath him. They’d hardly begun and he was already near the tipping point. And usually they both could go for so long, not that he didn’t wish they could continue for awhile in that dark, secretive room. Purple came first; Red kept him quiet, pressing a marred claw against his mouth, smearing blood there. Red came quickly afterwards, overly excited at the sight of shuddering Purple bloodied from both of them under him. Perhaps this image should have concerned them both, but Red could hardly care less.

They caught their breaths, PAKs glowing brightly in response to the overexertion, foreheads pressed against each other.

“We need,” Red repeated between breaths, “to finish up in here.”

“Mmm,” Purple pulled away only to bury his head in the space against Red’s neck, purring softly. Red used a gentle, unmarred claw to rub affectionately at the back of his head. Then, as though he recalled where he was and what must be finished, he stiffened, sat up, pushed Red away, pouting. “I’m filthy,”

Red scoffed. “Yes, well, what did you expect?” Still, he reached, tore a strip from the curtains behind Purple. Gingerly, Red dabbed at the blood smearing Purple’s face, moving downwards to blood stains and a bright, pinkish liquid which had stained both of the fronts of their skirts, their hands. All the while, Purple watched and allowed this, watching through half mast eyes. 

“That’s disgusting,” he muttered when Red tossed the strip aside. Red ignored him, standing carefully up. His entire self felt woozy and feather light. His head almost ached. Purple eyed the bloodied table ahead of them with tired wariness again.

“You go first,” Purple muttered finally, pointing to it. Red grinned, standing and yanking Purple up with him. He led him to the table with his ruined hand. Purple no longer seemed disgusted by the smeared blood. Only vaguely irritated and ready to be done.

“I’m sure whatever snacks they’ll be serving at the celebration will be worth all this,” Red said softly as Purple leaned against him. He didn’t pin Red’s wrist so tightly this time as both knew Red wouldn’t try to pull away. He raised the knife.

So many years spent beneath the empire’s claws; despite many attempts on their lives due to alien rebellions or the invasions of alien planets, and they’d dragged each other to the top, illegally or not. What mattered was not the unfairness of it all but simply that they’d done it. The pleasure of that thought was enough to ignore the pain of their final initiation as Tallest’s.

Behind him, Red could hear the grin in Purple’s voice. “It better. I want curly fries.” He brought the knife down.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So anyway, Red's a top and Purple's either a bottom or a power bottom


End file.
